In years defaced and lost,
Two sat here, transport-tossed,
Lit by a living love
The wilted world knew nothing of:
...
Beeny did not quiver,
Juliot grew not gray,
Thin Valency's river
Held its wonted way.
...
I MARK the months in liveries dank and dry,
The day-tides many-shaped and hued;
I see the nightfall shades subtrude,
And hear the monotonous hours clang negligently by.
...
There trudges one to a merry-making
With sturdy swing,
On whom the rain comes down.
...
O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,
And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free-
The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.
...
THEY sing their dearest songs--
He, she, all of them--yea,
Treble and tenor and bass.
And one to play;
...
When I set out for Lyonnesse,
A hundred miles away,
The rime was on the spray,
And starlight lit my lonesomeness
...
Why did you give no hint that night
That quickly after the morrow's dawn,
And calmly, as if indifferent quite,
You would close your term here, up and be gone
...
I towered far, and lo! I stood within
The presence of the Lord Most High,
Sent thither by the sons of earth, to win
Some answer to their cry.
...
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
...